


Closed

by UndertaIe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Ink Being the Biggest Asshole, Mental Instability, The Wouldn't be Possible without TFD!, dark themes, thanks!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndertaIe/pseuds/UndertaIe
Summary: Closed conception. Ink was been really stressed out about the constant overload of repairing and work he'd have to constantly do because of error, but one day he dissipated.  He went away.  He had enough.  Abandoning all his friends in the process, the sought feeling of knowing there's an end to be awaited.. really excited Ink in ways it.. shouldn't have.It's all for the good of the Multiverse.. right?





	Closed

One day when the multiverse was bright and beaming, the god of the creation and protection of them all was doing their job, and as usual, the error glitched skeleton was sitting there in his infinite void of nothing.

It wasn't nothing to him though, it was the one place where he cnsidered home. No matter how many judged him for his weird tendency to call the empty nothingness of the void his home, he did not hesitate to call it so.

It was another day though, and this wasnt adverage though, he was sitting there knitting his doll of ink, he wasnt going to do much with it, he was going to do this weird "voodoo" thing that he heard about on undernovela. 

He smirked at the thought of the artist unravelling under his very hands, and if this worked?

He would basically have control over everything.

He carefully weaved the yarn around in a frequent pattern to make a weave, connecting the colored thread to take the artists dedicated doll just right. He would hate to hate a mistake during the process, especially if it was going to be exactly like himself.

Another smirk appeared on his face as he started to work around with hid fingers to make the final touches, and his weacing stick would have finally gone to goos use from those lessons from blueberry_underswap_#153. He was now long gone, but he did like the blueberry, he really wished he got to see him just one more time.

That isnt the case, error, hes gone now. Hes never coming back.

He started to stop weaving, messing up a couple stitches, thinking about the once lost soul that seemed to connect his already cold heart, managing to somehow warm it up like a heater on the cold winter night..

That cold winter night when papyrus was already dead, he stood there and comforted him under the dim glow of the NTT network and the heater running. His arms wrapped around the other in a affectionate way, tears stained his shoulder as blueberry munched on stolen chocolate from the fells, but this time it wasn't stole.

He remembers that night, where when he walked into the fells, and they pulled out their bones, ready to attack, ready to kill him. And for once in his life, he had to desperately explain ina lost scramble of words as of why, indeed, he was there. Why he had to steal another chocolate bar from the upset alternative.

The only reason he got it that night, was because he had to physically show them the crying blueberry in pain. 

 

He was deep in though, as his pupils seemed to darken, and shrink. He looked down at the ink in his hands. He messed the doll up, but he didn't care as the doll dropped.

"Hey, error."

Error snapped up and stared up at the artist that occupied his space, and he shook, as he backed up.

Ink stared to walk forward, and his eyes were a clear glow of red, he smirked. "Hey, don't look so chilled to the bone!"  
He spread his arms, he spread his fucking arms, and his paintbrush was behind him.

Error didn't know what to do, what had happened?  
He started to back away, and a million voices screaming at him at a million miles an hour. Different pained voices of human children were screaming in his head.

"please don't kill me, i don't deserve it-" interrupted by a loud blood curtiling scream, and starting to back up in mental terror, his glitching started to blur his vision and he started to freak out.

He started to tremble, and ink started to pace forward, he was stuck. nonono, don't be stuck, and he wasn't going to get out-

"Come torwards me, error." Ink smiled, and his hand was now reaching behind at his brush.

He shook, and his blurred vision prevented his poor figure from being able to run away from the terror that was ink, he had no idea what to do.  
He tried to push himself up, but when Ink took another frightning step, and another scream started to blur his vision, he curled again.

He dropped, and Error had no other option, and by the time he actually got to hear anything besides a terrified child's scream, Ink was now weilding his brush, and he was getting closer faster than before.

He fell down again, and he freaked out not being able to escape. He couldn't see, he was blocked out by millions of screams of children and his own mistake.

"Error"

 

He finally got to see with wobbly eyes that ink was straight up launching for him, he made a big smile as the brush he weilded was now at a position as if it could stab.

NO, NO NO NO NO-!!!

Error tried to run, and the launched ink quickly managed to catch up with the last breath of him, and the artist pinned him down, and he felt a slash of pain as he struggled with a loud scream.

Blood.


End file.
